The dashboard clock glowed 2:17 a.m. when the coastal road gave way to a narrow, potholed track snaking into the Aravalli foothills. Priya’s headlights caught twisted branches and thick undergrowth; the storm had followed them inland, now reduced to a steady, dripping mist that turned the world ghostly gray. The car bounced over roots and ruts, suspension groaning. Arjun’s hand rested heavy on her bare thigh—fingers occasionally dipping between her legs to stir the thick, cooling mess still leaking from her pussy. Each touch made her clit twitch; she was sore, swollen, and impossibly aroused again.

“Deeper,” Arjun said quietly. “Until there’s no road left.”